The Life of a Cloak and a Sorcerer
by RedCoatsRedder
Summary: Tales in the life of a sorcerer and his sentient cloak! Or, Doctor Strange and the Cloak of Levitation fluff.
1. A Good Friend and a Overprotective Cloak

**If you liked the friendship between Strange and his cloak then this fic is for you.** **  
**  
The Cloak of Levitation.

A powerful, mysterious relic that was known to be finicky and hadn't chosen a sorcerer in many years.

And apparently very, very protective of one Stephen Strange.

Wong noticed how the Cloak seemed to hover near Strange as often as possible. Once he'd even walked into the library to see the man asleep at a table with the Cloak hovering next to him.

He'd tried to reach out and wake Stephen, but the relic had draped itself over the man. If fabric could have expressions Wong was pretty sure the Cloak would've been giving him a reproachful glare.

"You know, he'll be happier to wake up on a bed than at a table with a sore neck." Wong remarked. The Cloak moved in a way that resembled shrugging. It curled a corner around Stephen's wrist, almost like it was checking for a pulse.

"Then again he hasn't slept in two days so I won't be the one to wake him." Feeling certain that the Cloak understood, Wong left the library and the sleeping man behind.

The next morning, Strange looked considerably more well rested, but kept rubbing at his neck like it was bothering him. Wong gave the Cloak a (discreet) "I told you so" look.

Further evidence of the loyalty of the relic presented itself a week later.

It was one of the nights when Stephen actually went to bed at a reasonable time.

So when Wong was woken by a shriek, he sat bolt upright in his bed and wondered if the man had been attacked while reading.

Another scream rent the air. "Damn it." Wong muttered, even as he was yanking back his blankets and scrambling out of bed.

By the time he reached Strange's room, the night was quiet again. Carefully opening the door, Wong peered in.

Stephen was sitting upright, staring down at his lap while the Cloak wrapped itself around him in what appeared to be a hug. The collar of the relic was wiping underneath the man's eyes.

Wong came in cautiously. "Are you alright, Strange?"

Stephen nodded. "Yep. I'm fine. Memories, is all." He clearly didn't feel like going into much detail.

The Dark Dimension. Strange had told Wong what happened there. Of course the memories would be a heavy burden to bear. It must've helped, having the Cloak by his side then and now.

"The Cloak of Levitation certainly seems to have taken to you very quickly." Wong remarked, hoping to cheer the man up.

Strange smiled slightly at that. He fiddled with the hem of the Cloak, which skimmed lightly over his injured hands in an imitation of how a person might rub someone's hand to comfort them. "It died all those times too. I guess it thinks I'm danger prone now."

Wong snorted at that. "Well, I've always been told that the Cloak was among the smartest relics. Guess that's correct."

The Cloak suddenly shot off Stephen's shoulders and seemed to be making angry gestures at Wong. Both men looked at the relic in confusion. When the Cloak stopped, it hovered in place for a moment, then floated slowly to the door. Wong glanced back at Strange, who shrugged. "I think Cloak wants you to follow it."

A magical relic wanted him to follow it. The Cloak let Wong step outside the room before darting back in and wrapping itself firmly around Stephen. Wong stared at the pair in disbelief. Just as quickly, it flew off again down the hall.

Stephen gestured for him to follow.

When Wong finally caught up with the Cloak, it was in the library next to a book. The page it was open to was about the Dark Dimension.

There was a second book off to the side, open to a page on relics. The Cloak hovered next to both, obviously waiting for Wong to connect the dots.

"Okay...so you want to tell me something about the Dark Dimension and relics." Wong sighed. He scanned the print of the first book. Nothing that could be important. Scanning the second book, he noted a line of text about how protective some relics were.

Suddenly many things made sense. "You're feeling guilty about all those times you and Stephen died in the Dark Dimension."

If the Cloak could've nodded it would have. It flew out of the library. Wong had a good idea of where it was going.

When he stopped by Stephen's room to check on him, he found the Cloak laying at the foot of the sorcerer's bed. The man rolled over in his sleep, and the Cloak drifted up to lay across his back.

Curse the adorable tendencies of magical relics and their sorcerers.

 **Yay fluffy bonding time! Love you all. ~RedCoatsRedder**


	2. To Protect

**This is just "A Good Friend and an Overprotective Cloak" written in the Cloak's POV.**

Stephen Strange.

A former doctor, now sorcerer and head of the New York Sanctum.

And apparently very, very danger prone. Something one Cloak of Levitation found out quickly.

The Cloak had noticed this not a hour into their acquaintance. Right after it had chosen Strange.

But when they had settled down, for however short a time, the Cloak found that Stephen still needed to be protected.

After forty-eight hours without sleep, Stephen fell asleep at a table in the library. The Cloak watched him carefully, unwilling to let anything happen in the man's incapacitated state.

Until the librarian, Wong, came in. He headed straight for Stephen, reaching out with the obvious intent of waking him.

The Cloak draped itself over its sorcerer.

 _No. He sleeps._ Its message, though unspoken, was clear.

"You know, he'll be happier to wake up on a bed than at a table with a sore neck." Wong tried. If the Cloak could shrug it would have. It gave it its best shot, and curled around Stephen's wrist.

"Then again he hasn't slept in two days so I won't be the one to wake him." Wong left the room.

The next morning, Stephen evidently had a bit of muscle soreness. Wong was right.

"Hmmmm, Cloak? Or did someone put a blanket on me? Urgh, my neck is stiff." Stephen mumbled. The Cloak shifted slightly.

Wong gave the Cloak a pointed look. The Cloak ignored it.

Not much happened for a week. A good week where no one was in danger. Then, one night...

Stephen was screaming. The Cloak had been hanging on a hook when the sorcerer started to scream. It knew what nightmares were. Given what had occurred in the Dark Dimension it wasn't surprising.

It floated over and settled down on Stephen's shoulders, wrapping around him like a hug. It wiped the tears and sweat from his face, and rubbed soft circles on his hands.

 _It is alright, you live. We live. Be calm, sorcerer. I am here to protect you. Be at peace.  
_  
Of course, Stephen couldn't hear it. But he quieted and relaxed into the Cloak's comforts all the same.

"I'm sorry."

 _What for, sorcerer?_

"You must've died as well all those times I did." Stephen continued.

 _I don't die like humans. But my job is to protect you, my sorcerer. One that I failed at, too many times. You are safe. My sorcerer.  
_  
Of course Stephen heard none of that. So the Cloak continued its comforting.

Then Wong came bursting in. "Are you alright, Strange?" Hmm. He was concerned. The two men were friends, after all.

"Yep. I'm fine. Memories, is all." If the Cloak could speak, it would've scoffed. Memories. They were definitely not simple.

"The Cloak of Levitation certainly seems to have taken to you very quickly." Wong remarked.

Stephen began to fiddle with the hem of the Cloak. It ghosted lightly over his hands, soft comforts.

"It died all those times too. I guess it thinks I'm danger prone now." _You are, my sorcerer. It is going to be fine. You are safe, remember?  
_  
The Cloak needed to talk to Wong. It shot off of Stephen's shoulders and tried its best to make angry gestures. When all it received were looks of confusion, it drifted slowly to the door.

"I think Cloak wants you to follow it." Stephen told Wong. _Smart sorcerer._

Wong seemed resigned and headed for the door. When he stepped outside, the Cloak flew back in for a brief moment, wrapping tightly around Stephen. _My sorcerer, I will be back quickly_.

Then it darted into the hallway and raced towards the library. It quickly located two books, and opened them to the necessary pages.

When Wong came in, the Cloak waited for him to put the two together.

"Okay...so you want to tell me something about the Dark Dimension and relics." Wong began to flip through the books. _No, no. You just needed the pages!  
_  
Even though it took a few minutes, Wong got it. "You're feeling guilty about all those times you and Stephen died in the Dark Dimension."

The Cloak gave its best attempt at a nod and flew out of the library, back to check on Stephen.

The man was asleep when the Cloak returned, so it settled down across the end of the bed. _Sweet dreams, my sorcerer._

Later, Wong came in. Presumably to check on Stephen. The Cloak didn't notice. Stephen rolled over in his sleep and the relic moved to cover his back.

 _My sorcerer._

 **Ok there will probably be a third chapter, but if you want to see anything in particular just let me know! If you've seen my profile you will know my rules when it comes to requests. If not, please check it out. ~RedCoatsRedder**


	3. Ten Feet Upside Down

**This is actually pure, one hundred percent fluff.**

Typical mornings in the Sanctum did not start out ten feet in the air.

But for one Stephen Strange, well let's just say that hardly anything in his life is considered typical anymore.

So one morning he woke up suspended ten feet above his bed. Like any sensible person, he made a very loud, very undignified squawking sound.

Stephen flailed about for a few seconds before realizing that he wasn't falling or going anywhere. As his body calmed, so did his mind, leaving him free to consider the possibilities. And really, there was only one culprit and Stephen knew exactly who it was.

"Cloak, what are you doing?" He sighed. The relic stayed wrapped tightly around his body, still suspending him in the air.

The oddest part out of all of this was that the Cloak seemed to be hugging him. It was squeezing him tightly, but not to the point where it would be painful.

In response, the Cloak drifted slightly to the right, over near a tall dresser that came close to the ceiling. Stephen usually wasn't able to see the top. Now, as he was suspended above it, he could watch as the Cloak used a corner to trace...a heart shape? Into the dust on the dresser? A heart?

The relic's edges fluttered happily. Stephen didn't know that the Cloak was saying, I love you, my sorcerer! And I woke you up like this so I could tell you.

He really had no clue what was going on. "Yes, yes I know. Now can you put me back down please?" Stephen sighed.

It was only when he'd left the room, the Cloak sitting normally, albeit a little heavier than usual on his shoulders, when he realized.

Patting the hem of his loyal relic and friend, Stephen smiled. "Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Carpet."


	4. With You 'Till the End of Time

**If the previous chapter was fluff, this is pure, undiluted angst.**

The Cloak seldom got along with others apart from its dear sorcerer. Wong was alright.

But the first time the Cloak met Tony Stark, it was less than impressed. Snarky, disrespectful towards magic and the Cloak's sorcerer. (Though, at first Stephen had been quite similar.)

Then there came bad tidings, very bad indeed. Thanos was coming. The universe was in danger. And that was how they ended up on the streets of New York fighting the children of Thanos. Who caused the Cloak a good deal of worry.

Pulling Stephen from the cables that ensnared him, yanking him away from the danger, only to be stopped by some mundane metal object. Briefly, some spider-human rescued the sorcerer, only for the both of them to be pulled into a massive spaceship. The Cloak followed.

Stark and the spider-human, or regular human boy, were there also. The Cloak watched, and could do nothing, as its beloved sorcerer was tortured. Fortunately humans could be more helpful than they were given credit for. With the help of Stark and his child they were able to rescue Stephen.

Alright, so apparently the boy wasn't Stark's child. Unimportant. The Cloak had Stephen back.

Never again never again you stay with me safe.

Titan. A dead place. Nothing. They all but crashed into the surface. And nearly the minute their feet hit the dusty ground, a strange group of people run out at them.

Welcoming committee? Hardly. A grey man runs towards Stephen. Hell no. The Cloak shoots forwards and wraps around his head, attacking like it did one of Kaecillius's zealots.

The brief fight ends when the half human captures Peter. (Stark's child.)

The Guardians of the Galaxy. Hmm.

Thanos is a large, purple being who radiates the power of the stones in his possession. According to plan, Stephen sits on a pile of rubble, waiting. And just like the plan says, the rest attack.

The Cloak plays its part. It tries its hardest to keep Thanos from closing his fist. When he tears at it, it returns to its sorcerer's shoulders to help continue the fight.

Stephen has gotten much more powerful and stronger since they first met. The Cloak is proud, even though it knows now is not the time.

They manage to pin Thanos so the gauntlet might be removed.

For a wonderful few minutes, everything goes well. But one of the guardians, the half human half celestial, Quill, listens to Thanos. His girlfriend is gone.

Peter and Stark have almost removed the gauntlet when Quill loses composure. Stark tried in vain to calm him, but it's too little too late. Just as Peter slides the gauntlet off, Thanos breaks free and snatches it back.

The fight that follows is quick. Too much to take in. The Cloak helps Stephen best it can, but there is a moment when Thanos pins Stephen by the throat, when he crushes the fake Eye, where the Cloak fears for its sorcerer's life.

But when Stark is stabbed things go awry.

Both the Cloak and its sorcerer know what has to be done. Out of all the futures, they only win one. Stephen gives up the Time Stone. Thanos disappears.

They rest. And perhaps Stark isn't so bad.

Then it happens. The Guardians are the first to go, slipping away, turning to ash. They look so confused, so afraid.

One of life's most important lessons is to let go. The Cloak knew. Stephen knew. And though it can only sense the barest amount of fear on its sorcerer, the Cloak is very, very afraid. It does not want to lose its sorcerer. If it cannot follow Stephen, well. Who would look out for him?

"Tony. It was the only way." Stephen's voice is gentle.

The Cloak does its best to comfort its sorcerer, its Stephen. It can feel the man's body begin to crumble into ash, and its only comfort is it's one small mercy from the universe. It can feel itself fading too.

I am with you, my sorcerer. Until the end of time.

 **I PROMISE THE STORY IS NOT OVER. THERE WILL BE FLUFF TO HELP EASE YOUR PAIN. ~RCR**


	5. Your Pain, My Fear

**To Moonstar World for the great ideas!**

Kamar-Taj was in a state of panic. Stephen Strange, master of the New York sanctum and Sorcerer Supreme, was suffering from life threatening injuries.

Wong was at the New York sanctum with the man, keeping his unconscious body company while a team of healers worked to save his life.

Multiple stab wounds in the chest and stomach, a long cut across the throat, and a blow to the head that was bleeding and would probably result in a concussion. It was a miracle he'd made it this far.

It took hours upon hours, but they did it. Stephen, still unconscious but out of danger, lay peacefully in his bed. Wong gave the man one last look, then rose to his feet and opened the door-

Only to be sideswept by a red blur that shot into the room. Stephen's Cloak of Levitation.

The relic hovered by the bed, reaching out one corner of fabric to touch the wound on Stephen's head. It fluttered lightly over the rest of his body, almost as if it was examining the rest of his wounds, before settling gently over top of him like a blanket.

Wong looked on incredulously. He had known the two shared a powerful bond, but he hadn't known it had been this strong.

The Cloak had arrived at Kamar-Taj with its sorcerer injured only to be ripped from his shoulders and have him all but carried back home to the New York sanctum. It had slipped through the portal last minute.

It hadn't been allowed to see its sorcerer for hours after that, so naturally it was in a state of panic. It would've known if Stephen was dead. And he wasn't , but he was dying.

And it was terrified. Its beloved sorcerer lay alone and slipping away and it wasn't even allowed to be with him.

Finally, finally Stephen's condition approved, and Wong, the librarian, opened the door to his room. The Cloak swept in, heading straight to the bed where it's sorcerer lay sleeping.

 _SAFE SAFE MY SORCERER IS SAFE BUT HE'S HURT HURT HURTING MY SORCERER NEEDS ME.  
_  
It reached a trembling corner out to touch the white gauze bandage on Stephen's head. It could sense the other wounds beneath the soft fabric sheets. Too many.

Settling over Stephen's body protectively, it vowed to never let harm come to him again, not while it could do anything about it.

 _I will never again let anything hurt you, you are safe. My sorcerer. My Stephen.  
_  
When morning came, it barely allowed the healers to examine the head wound. When they tried to access the wounds on its sorcerer's torso, it pressed itself close to his body.

Unfortunately, this had the opposite effect. Stephen came to with a small groan as pressure was put on his wounds. The Cloak stroked his face with its collar gently.

"Doctor Strange. Please remove your cloak." One of the healers requested.

Stephen looked at the healer and then the relic. "Cloak." he rasped, "They need you to let them look at me. I promise they won't do anything. I'm sure they'll let you stay if you want."

Slowly, the Cloak slid away from its sorcerer. It watched as the healers dressed the wounds and bandaged them again.

One healer, a young woman, approached it. "You're so loyal. He talks to you, so I suppose you understand me. Look, he's not completely in the clear yet. Just thought I'd let you know... losing someone suddenly is awful."

She smiled and sighed, leaving with the others. The Cloak was trembling. Its Stephen, could still die? No. Never.

It settled back protectively over its sorcerer, if a little tighter than before. Stephen curled his fingers around the hem and snuggled deeper into the sort-of embrace.

 _Love you love you.  
_  
The Cloak softly brushed a stray strand of hair off Stephen's forehead. And everything was alright.

 _Never again. Always and forever with me, my sorcerer. I shall not let you away from me ever again.  
_

The young woman healer, called Lilia, entered Doctor Strange's room around six in the morning. She'd been asked to check in on the patient to see how he was faring.

Lilia had been impressed by the unwavering dedication and loyalty shown by the Cloak of Levitation. It had been nothing but protective.

And apparently it did not like intruders in its master's room.

When she entered, the first thing she saw was Strange curled beneath the cloak on the bed. The relic shot up, hovering between her and the patient. If it could make expressions, it would've been glaring.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm just here to check on your master." She tried. Nothing. The Cloak flicked its collar as if to say, 'oh please. That man would be lost without me.' But it still didn't move.

Time for a different approach. Lilia strode forward until the Cloak stopped her from going any further. Okay. Plan B.

"If you don't let me at least look at him, I'll wake him and we can do a full examination." Ha. That did it. The Cloak sulked, but slid away from the patient.

She pulled the sheet back, checking to make sure no blood had seeped through the bandages. Thankfully, none had. She quickly slipped into her astral form, just to make sure Strange's soul hadn't left his body.

Mission accomplished, she stepped away from the other sorcerer. "Alright. I'm done. Look, he's just fine. Guess what? He's going to be healed in three days, if the spells continue to work."

The Cloak reached out to its master, settling smoothly back over the man. It lifted a corner at Lilia as if to shoo her away.

"You're welcome." she called over her shoulder as she left the room. In the doorway, she paused to look behind her. Strange was waking up, and the Cloak was stroking his face. It was overall a very sweet moment.

Stephen woke up with the Cloak covering him like a blanket. "Hrm? Whats goin' on? Cloak?"

His loyal relic was cuddling him, softly stroking his face. "Ah. 'M okay. Whatever they did worked. I don't have any stitches, they used magic to bind m'wounds. They used spells too. My healing's gonna be accelerated. Isn't that amazing?"

No response from the Cloak. It just stopped moving and settled down on his chest, its collar settling on his collarbone.

And, like a whisper on the wind, so soft he wasn't even sure if he was just imagining it or if it was real, Stephen heard the Cloak speak in his mind.

" _Yes. But you are not okay. You are hurt, and not just physically. I should have protected you better. See, that is not my only purpose. Since I was created, I have bonded in body and in mind with sorcerers. Very, very few, and none as much as I have with you. You are special. Different. I love you as much as I am capable of. You are mine, just as I am yours. My beloved Doctor Stephen Strange, master of the mystic arts." It touched his cheek gently. "Rest, my sorcerer."  
_  
When Stephen awoke the next morning, he couldn't recall hearing the Cloak speak. But he was left with a sense of...unwavering loyalty and love. An immense sense of caring and righteousness.

And when he was able to stand for the first time since he was wounded, his Cloak firmly on his shoulders, the feeling only intensified.


	6. Bubbles

One of the few time-tested luxuries, one that humanity still enjoys, is a bubble bath.

This also applies to sorcerers.

Stephen Strange was sitting in his bathtub at 177a Bleecker Street. It was filled with bubbles.

So what? He was tired. It had been a long week. He was allowed to have a few moments of peace.

Or not. The door opened slowly, and Stephen tensed. Was it Wong? No, he was back in Kamar-Taj. One of the Avengers, bothering him again? Surely they had the decency to respect his privacy.

The Cloak of Levitation peered in, and immediately floated over to the tub. It looked as if it was examining the pink mass of bubbles that Strange was immersed in.

"Hello." Stephen felt a little awkward, subject to the scrutiny of his relic. To his surprise, the Cloak reached into the water and yanked his foot above the bubbles.

This caused Stephen to slide a little deeper into the water, only just keeping his head clear of the bubbles.

The Cloak was examining his foot, as if it was searching for a sign of injury. It dropped his foot and picked up the other one.

"You know, it's just a bubble bath. It's not harming me. Here. Look." Stephen gently splashed frothy pinkish water towards the Cloak.

It wasn't much water. He didn't really feel like cleaning it up later. But when a few drops landed on the relic, it was out of the room so fast it was a blur of red.

Sinking into the water, Stephen sighed and closed his eyes. He'd have to make it up to his Cloak later.

His silent contemplating was interrupted a few moments later when a absolutely frigid waterfall crashed over his head. He made a sound like a wounded cat and his eyes flew open.

The Cloak of Levitation stood beside him, holding an empty bucket.

It pointed a corner at Stephen, like it was laughing at him, and patted him on the head.

Stephen retaliated by splashing as much water as he could at the Cloak, no matter if he had to clean it up later.

Now that half of it was soaked through, the Cloak didn't seem so self-satisfied. It hovered in place for a moment, then snatched the bottle of bubble bath from the side of the tub, and proceeded to dump the remainder of the bottle straight into the bath water. And turned on the tap.

A wall of bubbles rose higher and higher. The Cloak, too caught up in its revenge to notice Stephen slip under the pink foam, panicked when it couldn't find its sorcerer.

Stephen had concealed himself under the bubbles. And turned the water off. Just to keep from making too much of a mess.

The Cloak, oblivious to its sorcerer's plan, shot into the foam, fully prepared to rescue its sorcerer from the deadly pink bubbles.

"Ha! Gotcha!" Stephen crowed. The Cloak was now just as soaked as its sorcerer, and covered from collar to hem in bubbles.

...

After the chaos had settled down, and the water and bubbles that had made it to the bathroom floor were cleaned up, all was peaceful again. Stephen sat in a chair by the fire in his study, reading yet another book, while the Cloak settled snugly around his shoulders. Warm, safe, and dry at last. 


	7. Double the Comfort

**Gosh it's been a while. But I'm back!**

Nightmares struck everyone from time to time. No matter how old you are, no one is completely immune to night terrors.

Regardless, that still doesn't make them any easier to deal with.

When nightmares happened in the sanctum, there was a specific routine.

First: wake the person having a nightmare. Second: provide comfort for the person having a nightmare. Third: make some tea and sit in the library reading until you either fell back asleep or the sun rose.

Since Wong wasn't constantly around, having to protect the books back at Kamar Taj, this routine was usually carried out between Stephen Strange and his Cloak of Levitation.

More often than not, unfortunately for the Cloak, Stephen was the one who had a nightmare. On one particular night, when memories of torture and dark creatures plagued his dreams, Stephen woke, gasping and heart racing, to his Cloak settled softly over his chest.  
 _  
Hello._

Stephen sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Just a dream, just a dream." He threw back the blankets and got to his feet, smiling slightly when the Cloak settled over his shoulders. It made a funny sight- the sorcerer in his pajamas, Cloak of Levitation wrapped around him like a blanket.

The library was dark, but Stephen turned on a desk lamp. He and the Cloak settled into an armchair in front of an empty fireplace, and he picked up the book he'd been reading earlier, a guide to some new, highly advanced spells he'd been eager to try. The Cloak settled over his shoulders and wrapped around his legs like a sentient blanket.

When the sun rose the next morning, poking rays of light through the library windows, it rose on a sleeping sorcerer and a Cloak of Levitation curled up in an armchair, open book still on Stephen's lap, the desk lamp still casting a yellow glow on his face.

What was slightly less unusual was when the Cloak itself had a nightmare. Though rare, it did happen, and Stephen had learned simply not to question it. If it was sentient enough to worry about him, and to understand his words, then it was sentient enough to have nightmares. End of story.

He didn't know what it dreamed about, and it wasn't like the Cloak could tell him. He just did the best he could, and it seemed to be enough.

It happened on a dark and stormy night. Super cliche.

Stephen woke up when a dazzling flash of lightning, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap, broke apart the night's previous silence. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes.

Then, something slid over him, moving up from the end of his bed before settling across his chest. It covered him completely from the neck down, and although it wasn't heavy, it was definitely a noticeable weight. At first, his mind thought "intruder", but with the arrival of more lightning and a brief illumination of the room, he could see his Cloak had drifted on top of his bed.

"Hello. Was it the storm, or did you have a nightmare? Flap once for storm, twice for nightmare." Stephen ran one of his scarred hands down the front of the fabric, like he was petting a cat. They'd developed the system the first time the Cloak had woken like this, to break the verbal communication barrier. So far, it had proved effective.

The Cloak flapped its corner against the mattress twice. Nightmare, then.

"Ok. Do you want to stay here, or go somewhere else? Same as before." One flap. "Stay in bed it is, then."

Seemingly satisfied, the Cloak tucked itself closer to his chest. One of its corners found his hand, and stroked it gently. Stephen recognized the gesture that the Cloak usually used to soothe him, but now it seemed that it soothed the relic as well.

As the storm raged on outside, the pair was safe in bed from both the elements of the weather and their dreams.

 **This was long overdue. Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Green (or Red) With Envy

**For Moonstar World, my main sponsor of this story, to be honest. This one's for you!**

The Cloak was annoyed. Wait. Scratch that. It was freaking _pissed._

Its beloved master, Stephen Strange, had gone out and purchased a blanket, of all things. It had been confused, at first. What use did Stephen have for a blanket? It wasn't as though it got too cold in the sanctum, although it had noticed the temperature drop in the past few days. Winter, it seemed, was upon them.

But that wasn't the point. The night after Stephen had purchased said blanket, he'd draped it over his bed right before he'd gone to sleep. Curled up underneath it and the already - there comforter and sheets, he was quite thoroughly covered. The Cloak, who usually placed itself overtop Stephen's bed at night, drifted forlornly in the corner. With the new blanket, it could barely feel any of it's beloved sorcerer's body heat.

Now, it just floated there, watching as Stephen slept soundly and a cold wind swept through the streets outside. Light from the city's nightlife cast faint shadows on the floor. The blanket lay on top of the sorcerer, taunting the Cloak with its stupid soft, slightly fuzzy fabric. It could almost hear the blanket mocking it.

A sudden flare of emotion that the Cloak didn't quite recognize burned through it. It yanked the blanket off of the bed and settled on top of its sorcerer, curling itself around his body. In the corner where it'd been cast away, the blanket sat in a heap.

If the Cloak had had facial expressions it would have been undeniably smug in that moment.

When Stephen Strange woke up the next morning, his Cloak was draped over his bed, its weight settled comfortably over top him. Which wasn't unusual. In fact, it was downright common at this point. What was unusual was the fact that the new blanket he'd gotten was gone, laying in a corner of his room.

As if the relic knew he was awake, the Cloak ruffled itself, as if it was shaking away sleep. He ran a hand over the garment, smoothing the non- existent wrinkles. Really, it was more like petting a cat.

"Hey Cloak?" he said with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head, "what happened to my blanket?"

It was like he'd said something awful. The Cloak shot off his bed, hovering in the corner like it was sulking and, coincidentally, blocking the blanket from view. Stephen smirked, just a little. He couldn't help it, not when the Cloak was so obviously _jealous._

"Aww. Someone seems to be a little bit green." The Cloak looked as confused as it was possible for it to look. "Green with envy, huh? Over a blanket?"

Yep. He was definitely right. The Cloak turned so it was facing away from him, like a human would when they were trying to be mad at someone. It was hilarious.

Okay. Maybe it was just a little mean to taunt the Cloak. Stephen sighed. "Alright. I won't use the blanket anymore, I promise. If it makes you that upset, I'll even get rid of the blanket, you big child."

The next minute he had an armful of magical red fabric. The Cloak wormed its way into his arms, settling around his shoulders like it belonged there. Which, in fact, it did. Stephen couldn't help laughing just a little as the relic curled happily around him. It was like a hug.

And because the Cloak refused to remove itself from his shoulders, he spent much of the day walking around with the relic overtop an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Thankfully, no one was expecting him for a meeting, gathering, social function, or anything that required him to look decent.

…

Several thousand miles away, Wong was in the library at Kamar Taj, organizing a shelf of books, when a portal opened and dropped a folded object at his feet.

It was a soft grey blanket, with a note resting on top of it.

 _Since it seems I'm not allowed blankets anymore, I thought you'd enjoy this._

 _-Stephen Strange_


	9. Searching the Sanctum

**Next chapter! Request fulfilled. Enjoy!**

Stephen prided himself on being a neat person. As a former surgeon, it was necessary to know exactly where he'd put every last tool or machine or whatever it was he needed to use to save someone's life this time.

None of this had changed when he became the Master of a Sanctum. He was still just as neat and tidy as ever, though now he had a much bigger space that he needed to keep organized. The library alone was difficult, not to mention the rarely used rooms. But he managed. Everything had its place, and everything was in its place.

Except now. He'd somehow talked Wong into letting him borrow a couple of very old, very sacred artifacts from Kamar Taj, which he protected fiercely and let no one, not even the Sorcerer Supreme, touch. But, with some convincing (translation: hours and hours of sweet talking, wheedling, and several deals made) he'd agreed to lend them out to Stephen for approximately forty-eight hours.

And now they were missing. Stephen was certain that he'd placed them safely in a locked cabinet in the library, which he had carefully secured, checked, and even placed the key in his pocket. Where it still was.

He had left the artifacts alone for no more than two hours. Just two hours. Apparently, things could disappear from a LOCKED CABINET in that period of time.

Stressed out of his mind and reduced to a state of near panic, Stephen strode through the sanctum, searching every drawer and cupboard, every cabinet and closet. He opened every door, looked through every room, and was still coming up empty-handed.

That left one last person he could ask, before he might have to face a apoplectic Wong in roughly forty three hours.

"Cloak! Cloak, where are you? I need your help so Wong doesn't murder me!" Stephen called. At times he felt a little silly talking to an empty (or so it appeared to be) building, but his Cloak came hurtling into the room and alighted on his shoulders.

Apparently when he used the words "murder" and "me" in the same sentence, the Cloak got worried. It tightened a little around his neck and swished in a way that was probably an attempt to be menacing.

It wasn't working, of course, but points for effort.

"Okay, so remember the artifacts that Wong let me borrow? The really old scroll and the ball thing that had the decorative pattern painted on it? They're missing, and we really need to find them within the next forty two hours and fifty six minutes so Wong doesn't detach my head from my shoulders."

Apparently "detach my head from my shoulders" was another phrase that that the Cloak didn't like. It lifted off his shoulders and rocketed off into the Sanctum, hopefully to help look for the artifacts.

A sudden thumping echoed from the corner of the room. Stephen's spun around, looking for the source of the sound. Magic shields up, he ventured closer. You never knew just what could be lurking in the depths of the Sanctum. He'd learned that from experience.

Peering around a cabinet, he saw….the orb. It bumped against the wall, rolled backwards, and bumped against the wall again. Wong had apparently neglected to mention that the orb was sentient. Stephen darted forward and scooped it up. There was a cauldron, an actual regular, non-magic cauldron, sitting on top of the shelf he'd been hiding behind.

He dropped the orb in the cauldron, placed the lid on top, and then for good measure placed a couple of large, heavy books on top of it. One down, one to go.

Meanwhile, the Cloak was drifting around the Sanctum, looking for the artifacts its sorcerer had lost. This was no easy task, seeing as whatever those artifacts were didn't want to be found. Nothing moved within the silent halls.

After ten more minutes of fruitless searching, the Cloak decided to return to the room it had left its sorcerer in. Surely the two of them would be better at tracking the artifacts down together.

But when it reached the room, no one was there. The Cloak wasn't too worried; Stephen must have decided to expand his search to the broader reaches of the Sanctum.

It continued to drift down the hallways, now looking for its sorcerer rather than the missing artifacts. After all, one of those things was far more important to the Cloak than the other.

Stephen was growing annoyed. The sentient orb getting away he could understand. The thing could roll, and clearly had some sort of sense of direction or purpose, however limited it was. But a scroll- those things couldn't roll nearly as well. Besides, the thing had a ribbon with a sort of metal seal or clasp or whatever attached. It wouldn't exactly be quick.

Unless it could teleport or open portals. In which case he was probably doomed. Hopefully it couldn't do either.

Still, another half hour passed, and he still had nothing. Not even the faintest idea of where it could be. He'd checked everywhere that he thought a scroll might like to be. The library, the relic room, pretty much anywhere with something old or something made out of paper.

All of the sudden, Stephen saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He went very still, in case the scroll was scared of him. A piece of paper, albeit very old and magical paper, scared of him. That was a new thought.

But the movement turned out to be his Cloak, which latched onto his shoulders. It swayed slightly, sticking close to the backs of his legs.

"What?" Stephen asked. "You didn't lose me too, did you?" He groaned. "You did, didn't you?"

He set off back towards the room where he'd originally left the artifacts, the Cloak still clinging close. He was examining the spot where he'd left the scroll, when a slight waver in the air caught his eye.

Running his hand along the shelf, he hit something solid where there should have just been air. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the scroll popped into view.

Stephen snatched it up. Yet another thing that Wong had forgotten to mention- the scroll could turn invisible, apparently.

Relieved, he went over to the cauldron where he'd left the orb. Lifting the lid, he looked inside to check on the other artifact and groaned.

Apparently the orb could teleport.

…

Back on Kamar Taj, Wong was sitting in the library, trying to decide if he should tell Stephen about the properties the artifacts he'd borrowed held. He decided against it- it would be worth it to see his friend's face when the time came for him to return the scroll and orb.

Wong chuckled. And Stephen said he didn't have a sense of humor.

 **Hope you enjoyed that! Remember, I'm open to requests! -RCR**


	10. Lost and Found

**This one's for RedHatMeg. Sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy!**

When Stephen Strange woke up that morning, he was hit with a sense that something was very, very wrong. And also unusually chilly.

Sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes and looked around his bedroom. Everything seemed to be in order. The curtains were closed, and early morning sunlight fought to make itself seen through the heavy fabric. Books he'd been in the middle of were scattered on pretty much any flat surface, along with a couple long empty cups that had once held tea. Everything was as it should be.

He ran a hand absentmindedly down his bed covers, expecting the Cloak to stir beneath his touch like it did each morning. When the fabric stayed still and unremarkable, he glanced down.

Below his hand was nothing but the thin comforter that adorned his bed. The Cloak didn't like blankets- it tended to have a jealous streak, he'd learned. Its absence was a very rare, essentially unheard of occurrence. Although it did explain why he was so cold.

Climbing out of bed, Stephen dressed slowly, waiting for his relic to make an appearance. It usually greeted him in the mornings, at least. But when he still hadn't seen it by the time he'd finished his breakfast, and the uneasy feeling had only grown instead of abating, he began to worry that there was something seriously wrong.

…

The Cloak of Levitation was many things. Fiercely protective was one of them. So one night, when it had heard the tell tale signs of someone who is trying to discreetly sneak around and is failing at it miserably, it floated off its sorcerer's bed and went to investigate.

There were two dark figures huddled in the hallway outside Stephen's room. They were armed with a few magical weapons, and looked very surprised when the door opened. And since they were very clearly up to no good, the Cloak made the executive decision to attack first and ask questions later.

It wrapped itself around the head of one of its opponents, and did its very best to bang the man's head against the wall, effectively knocking him out within ten seconds. It turned to deal with the other, only to find him gone.

 _Must've fled._

Feeling very self satisfied, the Cloak drifted back into its sorcerer's bedroom, only to see the second manning jabbing a dart of some sort into the exposed throat of one Stephen Strange.

 _Its_ Stephen Strange.

The Cloak rocketed forward, but this man apparently had better reflexes than the other, because he dropped to the floor, leaving the Cloak to slam into the wall above Stephen's bed. It made a rather loud sound when it collided with a ornate metalwork of some kind.

The sorcerer in the bed didn't even stir. Whatever was in that dart was likely a very powerful sedative, then. So, no help from him.

Gearing up to attack again, the Cloak launched itself at the attacker again. The man held a spherical object in front of him, like that would be an effective defense.

Apparently it was. The Cloak felt itself being pulled, stretched, tugged, compressed into an annoyingly small space. To make matters worse, no matter how it pushed at the edges of whatever was keeping it confined, it couldn't even budge the walls.

Hopeless. That was what the Cloak was feeling. This was a rather new emotion for it, and it decided that it wasn't very fond of it.

…

The man sighed as he pocketed the orb that he'd trapped the Cloak of Levitation in. Quite a powerful relic, that one, but his was better. Casting a disdainful glance at his companion in the hall, who was still unconscious after the Cloak's attack, he turned to survey the sorcerer on the bed.

Strange would be out for a good long while. The sedative was a very powerful one, and it was currently coursing through his veins.

Of course, the object of his mission had been to capture Strange. He knew not why, the orders had come from high up on the chain of command, far too high for him to question. But now, he supposed he'd have to leave Strange behind in favor of his idiot colleague. Couldn't have any loose ends for the sorcerers at Kamar Taj, who'd inevitably look for their missing friend, to unravel.

Leaving Strange where he slept, he left the room, grabbing his colleague by the ankle and dragging him along. As he neared the doors, an idea came to him. One that would tie up all loose ends, so to speak.

He penned a note to Strange. Satisfied, he left it lying on the bottom step where it would surely be seen. And then he walked through a portal and vanished.

 _Hello, my dear Doctor._

 _I think I may have something of great value to you. If you'd like it returned to you in one piece and not a pile of threads, I suggest you come to this address the moment you see this. Don't bring anyone with you. Sounds cliche, doesn't it? But if you value your Cloak and your life, you'll listen to me._

…

By now, Stephen was more than just a little worried. He was well on his way to full blown panic. He considered contacting Wong, and was just hurrying down the stairs to search the ground floor of the Sanctum when his foot landed on something that crackled a bit.

A piece of paper. A note. As he read it, his eyebrows rose higher and his worry grew, and quickly morphed into anger. Whoever this person was, they sure had a lot of nerve. He created a portal to the address on the paper, and stepped through.

The first thing that occurred to him was that the room was very dark. As his portal closed behind him, the last vestiges of light were gone. He created a shield in both hands, for protection of course, but also for the faint light they'd provide.

The dim orange glow had a greater effect than he'd expected. Shards of light bounced back at him from all corners of the space in front of him. Stephen blinked, and in front of him, the dark shapes of what must have been a good twenty men, all armed with swords like shards of mirrors, stood silently before him.

Before he could even create a weapon of his own, there was a sharp pain in his neck. The world started to ripple around him, as if a stone had been tossed into still water. Stephen felt his knees give out and then he knew no more.

He came to an indeterminable amount of time later. It was indeterminable because the last thing he remembered was a dark room, and when he woke, he was still in a dark room. There was no way to tell how much time had passed. And something was restraining his arms and legs.

His arms had been wrenched behind his back, and his legs were anchored maybe a foot apart to the floor. At least, he thought it was the floor. It felt like he was standing.

All at once, the lights came on. The sudden unexpected glare caused him to wince, and he had to blink several times before he could see his surroundings.

The room wasn't much better in full light. The walls were a deep shade of blue, plain and uniform. The floor was pale white marble. Everything in the room was deep and undisturbed, one blank solid canvas.

Somewhere behind him came the sound of a door opening. Stephen twisted his head as much as he was able, and caught sight of someone moving, coming closer to him.

A man. He was dressed in dark gray robes, and as he came to stand in front of Stephen, he smiled a rather wicked smile.

"Good evening, my _dear_ Doctor." He purred. "I don't suppose you'd remember me. You were very deeply asleep when we met. Now, don't bother to ask why you're here- I wouldn't tell you even if I knew. Alas, my superiors don't tell much, including why I was to capture you in the first place. But you made it easy for me, didn't you?"

Stephen just glared at the man. "What do you want from me?" _Where is my Cloak?_

The man laughed. "Oh, my dear, that's quite simple. Even I know that. We want you." And with a pat on Stephen's cheek, he left the room, humming merrily.

Stephen pulled at the...whatever they were restraining him with. It was like the magical bonds he'd used before, but this was like no magic he'd ever seen. These were black, giving off a strange sort of glow. As he pulled to get his arms loose, they snaked up around his shoulders until they were wrapped around his chest too. Damn. Just his luck to be captured by a cult.

Unfortunately the gray robed man was back within what must have been… maybe ten minutes? He sauntered in again with cocky smirk plastered all over his face.

"I've got a proposition for you, my dear." He crooned. Stephen rolled his eyes. This man was really grating on his last nerve.

"Alright. First off, I'm not your 'dear'. Second, who are you people? Some backwoods group that's taken things a bit too far?"

Ha. That one hit something. The man scowled at him. "Shut your mouth, _dear._ " He waved his hand and one of the strange black things slithered up his throat and over his mouth.

"Well, I was going to offer you a chance, but I think we'll wait a bit more, hmm? Let you cool off a bit. See you soon."

Not two minutes after the man had left, the door opened again. Stephen sagged against his bonds, prepared to deal with more of the whatever that man was. Instead, he was greeted by a young girl, who looked to be maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was dressed in the same gray robes, and looked furtive.

"Stay very still, okay?" She screwed up her face like she was concentrating intently, and clapped once.

The odd magic ropes slithered off him, and lay limply on the floor. The girl grinned, and hurried to the door. "Come on! You want out of here or not, Doctor?"

He would very much like to get out of here, but there was one thing. "My Cloak. I need my Cloak. Do you know where it is?"

"Seriously? Guess they finally got one thing right- how important that Cloak is to you. Yeah, I know where it is. I can take you to get it, if you'll let me leave with you. I won't be able to stay if they find out I let our two most valued hostages go."

Stephen and the girl shook on it.

The hall of this place were silent, and empty. Just like the room he'd previously been in. There was no sign of life anywhere, and nothing to distinguish one hall from another. The girl seemed to know her way around, and she guided Stephen through the maze like it was nothing.

Eventually, they came to a very stereotypical vault door, complete with an absurdly large combination lock. The girl (Stephen had taken to referring to her as that in his head) performed another sort of motionless spell. With a sound like wind chimes, the door cracked open.

Inside, there were tables with various sorts of objects on top of them. One held an intricate collar, another a hand held mirror. The girl darted inside and snatched up an orb. She pressed it into Stephen's hands.

"Just say _quid dabis mihi sublatus_ when you're safe. Your Cloak should be unharmed. And the ward you put on the left hand corner of the building has been broken, so I'd fix that. Now come on, we have less than five minutes before they realize you're gone and you can't portal out of here."

Sure enough, a high pitched ringing started to echo throughout the building. The girl swore under her breath and started to run, forcing Stephen to follow or risk losing her and his only way out of here.

They were nearing the end of a hall containing nothing but a pair of black double doors when a group of mirror-sword armed men came charging around the corner. The girl slammed into the doors, frantically tracing her hands over the faint designs wrought into them. They flew open and she charged in.

"Make the portal make the portal!" She screamed. Stephen did as told, and they both leapt through the circle of orange sparks. It closed behind them just in time to cut the tip off of one of the mirror swords. He sighed and restored the broken ward with a wave of his hand.

"Okay. I helped. Now please, send me to Kamar Taj." The girl said in between breaths. "I promise I'm not going to destroy anything, but I need to learn some magic besides the spells for opening those doors."

After a brief conversation with Wong, the girl was welcomed as a student to Kamar Taj. And Stephen retrieved the orb from the pocket of his robes. Turning it over in his hands, he spoke the words.

With a hiss of air, the Cloak flew out of the orb, and wrapped around him. This would be fine if it wasn't covering his face. Stephen overbalanced and ended up on his back on the floor, with the Cloak lying on top of him.

"Yeah, I'm really glad you're back too." he whispered, petting the fabric. The Cloak curled a corner around his wrist, making it clear they weren't going to be parted any time soon.

 **Hope you enjoyed that. Sorry it's so late, and I know it varied a bit from the prompt. Still, I hope you liked it regardless!**


	11. In the Endgame Now

**I'm so behind on filling requests but I really want to do this I'm sorry**

 ***ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD***

The Cloak had a consciousness. Of course it did- it was sentient, after all. But while it felt happiness, sorrow, pain, love, fear, hope, and all sorts of very human emotions, it wasn't exactly like a human.

While it could enter a state that was very, very similar to sleep, it wasn't actually required. More like a way to pass the time. It had done it many a time in the glass case at the Sanctum before it had met its sorcerer.

It also couldn't really die, per se. It could be damaged beyond any sort of repair, until its consciousness was nothing more than a few flickers, like an old lightbulb. But that took a great deal of strength, such as the power of the Infinity Stones, had they been used to rip and tear and shred.

But the way Thanos had used them, painlessly eliminating half of the universe, wasn't enough to hurt it.

After Stephen's body had floated away to ashes on the wind, and they'd both disappeared, it was very dark and silent. Oppressively so. The Cloak got the distinct feeling that they were rising through something.

An indeterminable amount of time later, they broke the surface of… something. It was like water, but not wet. It wasn't exactly liquid, nor was it solid or gas. This place was somehow both dark and light, everything and nothing, tiny yet infinite, at the same time.

Stephen's eyes were closed. His pulse was gone, and he was utterly, completely, still. The Cloak curled closer to its sorcerer. It felt sadness like it had never known, as though a fundamental part of it was missing. And, indeed, it was.

The human it loved most in the world was lost to it. He was lying there, and yet, he wasn't. This place was made of contradiction.

It placed two of its corners over Stephen's heart, and patted his cheek with its collar. Satisfied that they would be alright in this odd place, it let itself sink into its sleep- state. The final comforting thought that it had was the knowledge that Stephen had had a plan, that this would all unfold. The Cloak knew it too, but it was hard to believe that when its sorcerer was lying dead.

It woke up approximately twice in the entire time they spent in the strange void. Once was about six months after the Snap.

It had just had a nightmare. One where Stephen was hurt, bleeding out on the ground in front of an indiscernible enemy. He was literally curled in a pool of his own blood, and the Cloak couldn't get to him in time.

 _A shadowy figure was standing over Stephen, who was curled on his side. Blood streaked his face from a cut on his forehead, his blue robes were stained dark in the area of his stomach, where a shimmering blade was stuck. One of his arms was dislocated, and it looked like a few ribs might be broken, as the sorcerer whimpered slightly when he drew breath._

 _His face was turned towards the Cloak, and his eyes were wide with fear. The shadowy enemy kicked Stephen, who let out a scream. There was a distinct snapping sound. If he didn't have any broken ribs before, he did now._

 _The figure leaned down and yanked the blade out of Stephen's stomach. The man gasped, and the dark stain grew wetter and larger. The Cloak fought against whatever force was holding it back, but it couldn't break free._

 _Stephen let out a final whimper, and looked at the Cloak. It seemed as though he was trying to say something, but couldn't. His eyes closed and his body went limp._

The Cloak woke up in the strange void. It was still curled around Stephen, who was just as still as he'd been in the dream. At least there was no blood, there was no blade, and no enemy.

But there was also no Stephen to comfort the Cloak. It wormed a corner into the sorcerer's hand, and sank back into its sleep.

…

Four years and six months later, the Cloak woke up again. This time, it woke up to see the dusty, crumbled landscape of the planet Titan. And it was settled on the familiar shoulders of one Stephen Strange.

If it could shout with joy, it would have. The Cloak wrapped itself around Stephen, lifting him off the ground a couple feet. The sorcerer laughed a bit, stroking one of his hands across the relic's fabric.

"It was a long five years, wasn't it? Come on, it's time to save the world- for real this time."

"Excuse me! Hey, mister wizard! Doctor Strange!"

Stark's child was waving frantically at them a few yards away. The Cloak lowered Stephen to the ground, and the man hurried to the boy. The Guardians were reappearing too, looking around in confusion.

"We don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. It's been five years and they need us back on Earth. Let's go."

Stephen opened several portals, sending each of them to different places. He strode through one, and they appeared in front of a very surprised (but admittedly very happy looking) Wong.

They embraced for a moment, and then Stephen spoke.

"It's time. We need to go."

Every master of the mystic arts that they could find was summoned. Hundreds of portals were opened, bringing people from all across the earth and universe, all to the same spot. The Avengers compound, where the final fight with Thanos was going down.

The battle was huge. Thanos had his own army, of course he did. The Cloak flared, anger filling every thread. This was the man who'd killed half the universe, who'd killed half the _Cloak's_ universe.

"Avengers… assemble."

In all of its many, many years, the Cloak had never seen such an event. Stephen spent a good part of the fight holding back a massive tower of water, but all over the battlefield, the Infinity Gauntlet was being passed from hand to hand. They were so, so close.

Stark wanted to know if they were going to win. Stephen was right not to tell him, of course, but the Cloak wanted to shout its answer.

 _Yes,_ it wanted to say, _yes, we will, this is what was seen. But you will not like it, and Stephen does not want it to end like this, though it must. He knows it._

Finally, Stephen held up one trembling finger. This was it. This was the one out of fourteen million six hundred and five of all possible futures that they were going to win. All of this knowledge was passed to Stark with one simple gesture.

He did it. The Cloak wasn't exactly sure when it happened, as it had different things on its mind, but it saw the aftermath. Thanos's army was disappearing, turning to ash just like half of the universe had five years ago.

When the Titan himself was finally gone, the Cloak did feel rather vindictive. This was revenge, and it felt good. But it knew what the price of all of this was, and it would be a hard one to pay.

Stark's child, his wife, (and his other child, his little girl) they didn't deserve to lose him. Neither did his friends. It wasn't fair. The Cloak curled a corner around Stephen's wrist, seeking comfort. It was no stranger to pain, but pain and loss on this level was hard to witness.

The Cloak wasn't allowed to attend the actual memorial service. It didn't "go" with Stephen's suit. So it sort of just drifted around the Stark house, watching.

Proof that Tony Stark has a heart, indeed.

 _Thank you for your sacrifice. They will not forget you. Thank you for bringing my sorcerer back._

 _Thank you._

 **Guess who cried during Endgame. Me. I cried. I hope you liked this, and I'm working on other requests, I promise.**


	12. Snow Days and Shopping

**Heyo friends! This is based on some advice that samhengi gave me. Enjoy!**

The snow had been steadily spiraling down for all of the past two days and the better part of a third. Stephen Strange had been holed up in the Sanctum with cups of tea, books, and his favorite foods. Outside, the city was slowly being turned into a winter wonderland (or at least the closest you could get when you lived in New York City).

But now he was out of tea bags, and the pantry was running low. So, it was time at long last to face the weather.

He was pulling on his boots when his Cloak came swooping down the stairs and settled on his back. Walking around the house with his faithful sentient garment settled on his shoulders was normal, but whenever he went outside it tended to garner strange looks. It didn't help that the Cloak seemed to be jealous of his (non-sentient) coats and jackets.

Because of this he tended to stay inside during the winter, using his dislike of cold weather as an excuse. He only pulled the Jealous Cloak card with Wong.

Now, however, there was no choice. "Cloak, I need to put my winter coat on."

The relic immediately tightened around his neck. "Seriously, we can't go out like this. You remember how mad Wong got last time when you scared that cat and the video ended up all over the internet?"

This did not seem to matter to the Cloak. It wrapped itself around his body, binding his arms to his sides, refusing to budge.

Stephen sighed. He made his way to the library where Wong was working. He'd been buried in a pile of newly-discovered manuscripts for the entire duration of the snowstorm. When Stephen walked into the library, he found his friend asleep with his head resting on a desk amid old papers and scraps of translations. He didn't have the heart to wake him, and briefly considered simply opening a portal to go to the store.

Fortunately, the Cloak seemed to also not want to wake Wong, and released him. It floated off his shoulders, and waved its corners in what looked like an imitation of Stephen's motions with his hands when he performed magic.

A moment and a gentle glow later, instead of a Cloak he had a long red scarf floating in the air in front of him. It waved one of its fringe-tassels at him, then tapped him on the nose. Stephen laughed.

"I didn't know you could shape-shift. Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

The Cloak-scarf formed the shape of an "M". Stephen recognized that it was attempting to shrug, something that usually worked much better in its typical form. It looped itself around his neck, tying itself in a fancy knot.

Though having his new scarf already around his neck made it somewhat difficult to pull his coat on, Stephen managed it. Three and a quarter minutes later they were heading out the door and to the nearest grocery store.

Thankfully, the snow had kept most of the city's population indoors. It seemed that most people had wisely checked the weather in advance and decided to stock up before the storm hit. So Stephen pushed his cart through the aisles, grabbing his and Wong's favorite teas and a couple boxes of the other sorcerer's favorite tea biscuits. He also grabbed a few jars of cheap (but not horrible) instant coffee crystals.

He was trying to remember if they needed some bread when the Cloak reached up to grab a baguette. It dropped it into the cart and settled against his chest in a very self-satisfied manner.

"Thanks. But we still need the kind of bread that fits in the toaster." Stephen murmured, grabbing another loaf. Now they would have bread no matter what.

They continued through the store, Stephen grabbing random things from the shelves, occasionally splurging on a couple extra things- some instant hot chocolate, mini marshmallows, that really strange looking fruit, and just because he could, a poinsettia. Its flowers were the same color as the Cloak, and the relic reached out to brush one of the petals with a tassel.

And then things started to go wrong. Maybe the Cloak got bored, or it was enjoying the new environment that the store provided.

Stephen was examining a selection of vegetables when he felt the Cloak flop one end of its scarf-self down on his back. A second later, he heard an outraged sound from his left.

"Excuse me, sir, did see who threw this at me?" A middle-aged man glared up at him, clutching a head of lettuce that had clearly landed on the floor.

"No, I'm sorry." Stephen said slowly. There was no one else around them, and he looked around, trying to find a culprit.

"Hmph." the man gave him a suspicious look and marched off.

The Cloak fluttered its tassels against his chest, as if amused. Stephen decided to give his relic the benefit of the doubt, for now.

Not five minutes later, he was in the dairy section getting a carton of milk when the Cloak reached down and wrapped around a wedge of cheese. It placed it in the cart with a flourish.

"No, we don't like that type of cheese." Stephen returned it to its place on the shelf. The Cloak picked it up again, dropping it in with a loud clunk.

"Cloak, pick a different one."

Clunk.

"You can't even eat, why are you so determined to get this one?"

Clunk.

There was a squeak from the end of the aisle. A young lady was standing there with empty hands, as if she'd just dropped whatever she was holding. Stephen realized belatedly that the Cloak was now holding the wedge of cheese a good three feet above the shelf, which of course was something that a normal scarf should not have been able to do.

"Um...hi." He said awkwardly. "What weather we're having right now, huh?"

She took a deep breath, gave him a shaky smile, then promptly turned on her heels and marched out of the store. Stephen watched her go and felt a little bad about whatever mental crisis he'd just triggered for the poor lady.

At long, long last he had everything he needed and was ready to leave the store. He stood in the checkout line next to a rack of magazines.

"What a lovely scarf you have, sir." An elderly woman, probably about a foot and a half shorter than him with a thick lavender sweater and silver-rimmed glasses smiled up at him. "Technology these days is so interesting. I've never seen a scarf that can grab things like yours can."

With a (mental) groan, Stephen realized the Cloak was browsing through the magazines and tabloids within its tasseled reach. It placed the current one, the latest volume of National Geographic, back on the rack and draped itself over his head.

The lady laughed. "It reminds me of a parrot my grandmother had when I was a girl. It was so clever. It used to sit on my head just like that."

Stephen smiled weakly at her. The clerk, who thankfully had been occupied with helping out the previous customer, cleared her throat. He began to place his things on the belt, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else in the store.

"Sir, you are aware your scarf is on your head, right?" The clerk gave him a cautious smile. "We're inside, it's not snowing in here."

"Yes. I know." He said tiredly, turning back to his cart to fish out a box of tea that had slid to the back.

"Ah. Mood." The clerk said nothing more, simply scanning all of his items and bagging them.

As he left the store, he could've sworn he heard the older lady who'd been behind him say, "Bye bye now, funny parrot scarf!" His fears were confirmed when he felt the Cloak flop down between his shoulder blades.

When he got back to the Sanctum, he dropped the groceries in the kitchen, and placed the Cloak-scarf on the table. It immediately turned back into its usual shape and wrapped around his shoulders.

"I am never taking you in public anywhere ever again, and nothing you do can change my mind."

Of course, ten minutes later they were curled up in an armchair by a roaring fire with a mug of tea and a new book from Wong, who had woken up and roared with laughter upon hearing the incidents that had occurred at the store.

 **I'm not entirely satisfied, but I haven't updated this in ages and I wanted to give you some new content. Hope you enjoyed regardless!**


	13. Stephen Gets Sick

**For Cocoqbean**

Wong had not signed up for this.

Seriously, when he'd come to Kamar Taj, no one had said that he would end up doing anything remotely like this. When he became the librarian, nothing.

Maybe he should have realized that Stephen Strange had thrown a wrench in the gears of his life, in more ways than one. And in fact had thrown an actual wrench in actual gears once, but that was a story for another day.

The point was, he was being strangled by his friend's cloak. The relic had wrapped itself around his head, and was coming very close to cutting off his windpipe entirely, not to mention obscuring his vision. He tugged futilely at the Cloak, trying to prise apart its folds so he could breathe again, at the very least.

Thirty seconds later, he was massaging his throat and gasping for breath, the Cloak finally off his head and at a safe distance away. The relic was twirling and shooting back and forth down the hallway. When Wong stood up again, it twined around his wrist and started tugging him along.

"All right, all right. Hold your horses, I'm coming." Wong relented, following the frantic garment down the hall. To nobody's surprise, it came to a stop outside Stephen's room.

Wong knocked on the door, and received a raspy "come in". He pushed it open, and there was Stephen, still in bed and grinning at him like a sheepish child.

"I see the Cloak made good on its promise to find you."

"You knew your menace of a relic was going to come looking for me and you did nothing to stop it?" Wong crossed his arms and glared at his friend. "I expected better from you, Stephen. It tried to kill me."

"I'm sure it didn't mean to." Stephen said, a tad absentmindedly. His "menacing" relic had raced to his bed and settled down on top of him like a very large cat. "You didn't mean to try and kill Wong, did you Cloak?"

The Cloak flicked a corner in what could have been confirmation or denial. Wong shot it a glare, though there was no heat behind it.

"So, what's the matter with you?" Wong sifted through a pile of things on Stephen's nightstand. He extracted a thermometer from among a pile of (thankfully) unused tissues, and held it out to the other, who grimaced but took it anyways.

"I think I've got a bug, or maybe the flu. Whatever it is, it'll probably be gone in a day or two. I have a fantastic immune system." Stephen said around the thermometer. Wong rolled his eyes the moment he looked away.

The thermometer beeped- Stephen pulled it out of his mouth and glanced at it. "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about, just like I said."

"Let me see that." Wong snatched the thermometer out of his hand and examined the tiny screen. He glared at his friend. "That doesn't look fine to me."

The device read 101 degrees.

After ordering his friend to stay in bed and not to get up under any circumstances, Wong made his way to the Sanctum's kitchen. As the librarian of Kamar Taj, he was used to people coming to him for any sort of problem. Books, WiFi, romantic advice (only occasionally, thankfully), and from time to time, medical help. He was no doctor, but he knew a few simple remedies for fever.

Ironic that his former doctor friend was the one he was helping. Then again, a neurosurgeon might not be knowledgeable about this type of thing. Stephen wasn't, anyways.

He was in the middle of heating up a can of chicken soup- a tried and true remedy for ailing sorcerers- when the Cloak of Levitation came barrelling into the kitchen. It hovered just behind Wong, almost as if it was peering over his shoulder.

"Hello." Wong said into the silence. "Is Stephen dead?"

The Cloak slapped his shoulder. Apparently the words "Stephen" and "dead" were not to be used in the same sentence. Wong shook his head in amusement. "That was probably an ill-timed joke on my part."

He finished his soup preparation with the Cloak still lurking behind him like a friendly (sort of) red ghost, and began to make a pot of the man's favorite tea. Lucky for Stephen, they had very similar tastes in tea. Seriously, the man could only handle two cups at the most and they ended up with half a kettle full of hot water. Wong had burned himself a total of three times on a kettle he'd assumed was empty.

The tea was just about done steeping when Wong felt a light tap on his arm. The Cloak was floating next to him, almost shyly. It gestured to the ensemble in front of him, then pointed towards Stephen's room.

"Yes, this is for him. He's feeling under the weather." Wong explained.

If the Cloak was a dog, it would've cocked its head in confusion. It seemed to settle for tilting its collar to the side and shrugging its shoulder pads.

"He's sick." Wong clarified. The Cloak tilted its collar even further.

Well, relics didn't get sick. And who knew how long the Cloak had been holed up in that case? Wong never missed an opportunity to pass on new knowledge to any man, woman, child, or in this case, sentient garment.

They sat down at the kitchen table. Or Wong did, at least. The Cloak draped itself over the back of a chair.

"Humans have this thing called an immune system." Wong began. "It keeps us safe from things outside our bodies that might want to hurt us. We call those pathogens. When they get inside us, they make us sick."

The Cloak pointed back towards Stephen's room.

"Yes. That's what happened to Stephen." Wong smiled slightly. The Cloak was just as intelligent and quick to learn as its sorcerer. He continued his impromptu biology lesson.

"Usually, they're not a big deal. We can fight them off fairly easily, but the process isn't fun. A fever is one way of doing that. Many pathogens can't survive the higher body temperatures."

Even though the Cloak couldn't speak, Wong understood its next question. _What happens when it isn't fought off easily?_ He winced, and mentally apologized to Stephen.

"When we can't get rid of it, sometimes the human will die."

The Cloak, predictably, shot off the chair and sprang into action. It yanked the kettle off the stove, placed it on the tray next to the soup, and snatched up the previously filled teacup, which somehow didn't spill. It wrapped two corners around the tray's handles and would have raced back to Stephen's room right away if Wong hadn't said the magic words.

"He's fine! He's-" Wong pinched the bridge of his nose and vowed to never, ever yield to anything Stephen said ever again "-he's got a fantastic immune system."

This placated the Cloak, who set the tray back down and drifted over to Wong. He removed the kettle and sighed at the ring of burned wood it left behind.

The relic waited in the doorway while Wong removed the teabag from the cup and steadied the drink. "Seriously, why on earth did you think we would need the kettle?" he muttered.

The Cloak darted down the hallway and then flew back, pushing at Wong's shoulders when he didn't move fast enough. They made it to Stephen's room without incident, which was really a miracle considering how many times Wong almost dropped the tray due to the Cloak's urgency.

When he came inside, the Cloak had curled around Stephen's neck and shoulders like a large scarf or a friendly cat. He set the tray down beside the bed and gave his friend a tired smile.

"Your relic's still a menace."

Stephen laughed softly, petting his so-called menacing relic as it wrapped itself more securely around him. "I can't help it if my own Cloak likes me best."

They would be alright. Stephen did have a fantastic immune system, after all.

 **Hope you enjoyed! Remember to social distance, everyone. Be like Wong, Stephen, and the Cloak. Educate yourselves and stay home!**


End file.
